Chapter 9

Picard backed up, holding on to Beverly's arm. He stared down at the now neutralized attacker, who continued to watch the two of them expectantly. He could nearly feel the adrenaline flowing among the three of them. Did this young alien actually expect them to take his life? Picard shook his gaze away from the man. Even in the dark the man looked not only humanoid, but disturbingly human. "Are you alright?" he asked Beverly, taking hold of her arm.

Doctor Crusher jumped slightly but she didn't move away from him. She made a face and touched the left side of her ribcage gingerly. "Just some bruised ribs I think." Then she looked down at the scraped knuckles of his right hand. "You've injured your hand," she said. "Let me see," she demanded.

"No, it doesn't matter," he said, releasing her arm to pull his hand away.

She spread her arms wide as if to say have it your way. But then she whispered to him, "Captain, he looks very human…."

"There is no possible way he is human, Doctor. There is no record of humanity having traveled in this sector, much less having settled on a planet in this part of the galaxy. He's humanoid, yes…but human, no."

Beverly shrugged, apparently still intrigued, and she raised her medical tricorder as though to scan the still prone alien.

Picard reached out quickly and closed her tricorder with a snap. "No. We have to find Riker and Yar and get out of here and back to the ship," he reminded her.

"Not before I give this person medical aid," she said stubbornly.

"Do not touch him, Doctor, that's an order."

"Captain, you beat this man senseless a moment ago, and now you just expect me to leave him lying there?"

"Yes, I do! And he is clearly not senseless, as he was able to speak to us a moment ago."

"He just begged us to kill him, Captain! How is this coherent thinking? Perhaps you hurt him more than you think."

He clenched his jaw and stared at her, but her expression was immovable. Perhaps reason would work? "Beverly we are aliens to him, and I have no idea why he would say such a thing-primarily because he is from a different culture entirely. Before Riker's beam down, we had no prior knowledge of a sentient species on this planet. The bottom line is that we should not be interacting any further with this man...being, I meant to say."

"So the Prime Directive allows you to harm him and then just leave him lying there?" she argued.

Even in the light of his flashlight he could see the color rising on her cheeks. She was persistent if nothing else—although she was many more things, he was beginning to see. "The Prime Directive has nothing to do with what just happened here, Doctor. He attacked you!"

"And you defended me, and don't think that I don't appreciate your help, Captain. But now he's injured, and I am a doctor."

Picard turned away from her and scratched his head. Damn her stubborn nature, and damn my own for not beaming Riker and the others up when I had the chance. Picard looked down the large passageway. Did he hear voices down there? Was it Riker? He strained to hear, but it had grown silent again. "Fine," he agreed tightly. "But do not communicate with him."

Without a word, Beverly turned to attend to the fallen man, but spun back to Picard in surprise. "He's gone!"

"This is highly troubling, Lt. Commander…what did you say your name was?"

"Data," answered the android patiently. His audio and visual receptors captured the expression of arrogance and condescension of the individual on the forward view screen, and he catalogued these features for future reference. As an android this was of dubious importance, but as Starfleet officer in a diplomatic role, it was quite important.

Premier Fon of the Ciapathian people, glared back at Data through the view screen. The universal translator was operating at full efficiency, but the lack of understanding remained. "You will have to excuse my rudeness," said Fon. "But am I speaking to a living being…or an automaton, sent to do Captain Picard's bidding?"

Deanna Troi glanced at her colleague out of the corner of her eye. He had asked her to feel free to interject, acknowledging that she was better equipped and trained for diplomatic interaction than he. Deanna found this to be quite generous of Data, considering that Captain Picard had left him in charge. It was also very insightful. It was not lost on Troi that many a human being was unable to recognize his or her most obvious weaknesses, and yet this unassuming android had no trouble doing just that.

So far, she was happy to observe. But as she watched Data's tentative negotiation, she couldn't help but wonder if the Captain and the rest of the crew down on Trana IV were safe and well, and if they would be returning soon. After all, this diplomatic mission would be difficult enough without added time pressures.

Next to her, Data remained expressionless except for a slightly creased forehead. "Actually, Premier Fon, under Starfleet's diplomatic rules, I am not at all required to excuse your rudeness; however, I will continue to do so."

Fon's rose-colored skin deepened in color, and the thin fin-like protrusion running from his forehead to his chin fluttered slightly. "Continue? What is the meaning of this? Where is Captain Picard?" he demanded.

Oh he is not happy with Data, Deanna thought. I should note this for future reference: Premier Fon is easily agitated. He also seems preoccupied with something not immediately related to his business with us. Perhaps this will be worth pursuing later, once negotiations are underway.

Data frowned. "As I have already informed you, Premier Fon, Captain Picard is currently indisposed. Now if you would clarify: when you ask 'what is the meaning of this' to what exactly are you referring?"

"No I will not clarify my words to a machine! Is Captain Picard even on board your vessel?" Fon appeared outraged.

Deanna cleared her throat. "I was not aware that bigotry was such a prominent facet of Ciapathian ideology, Premier Fon," she interjected. "Lt. Commander Data is a valuable member of this crew who was chosen by Captain Picard to command the Enterprise in his absence. I should think that insulting the Captain's designee would not be a positive beginning to talks between our two cultures."

Fon's pale blue eyes suddenly fixed on her, and she felt…cold. "And who might you be?" he inquired.

"I am Lt. Commander Deanna Troi," she answered smoothly.

"And are you also an expert on Ciapathian culture?"

Deanna smiled. "I am aware that Ciapathians care greatly about adherence to societal expectations, promises; even something so simple as a schedule."

"And?"

"And Captain Picard has no intention of the Enterprise being late for our meeting at the designated coordinates. I can give you my assurance, Premier Fon that our ship will be at the coordinates you have identified in six hours."

Fon settled back in his large chair. He lifted his chin and his color lightened somewhat. "Very well, Commander Troi. I appreciate your taking this matter under your very careful consideration. And I look forward to meeting you in six hours." He nodded curtly and the screen turned to black.

Deanna sighed and let herself deflate a bit into the chair. She bit her bottom lip and glanced over at Data with a slow smile. "That was close."